Chapter Seventy-Two
Seventy-Two
Sandcastle
My finger itches to visit Max’s mudlarking channel. I haven’t checked in for a week – my record. He will have posted a new video by now. Maybe more than one.
I could just have a quick look… It feels suddenly impossible to not look, and I feel my jaw tense up with anxiety.
Caleb appears at the door, holding a new duck-shaped dog toy for Ted and a feathery cat toy for Nemo.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, immediately concerned by the sight of my face. Like he doesn’t expect me to have emotions. As if he’s found the Tin Man crying.
‘Bad break-up,’ I say. ‘I need to get over it, but I can’t seem to.’
He nods, as if he understands.
‘Would a walk help?’
‘It might.’
We walk Ted together down to the beach, and spot a gigantic sandcastle at the water’s edge, which Ted regards with deep suspicion. A huge group of tourists, who don’t appear to know each other, are working together to build walls in front of it. They’re trying to defend it from the tide. Ultimately pointless, but the effort gets them cooperating, cheering each other on. It feels like a moment.
I expect Caleb to turn aside from them, but he doesn’t. He gets straight in there, working with a group of men – wannabe engineers and construction specialists, the lot of them. He installs a moat to direct the first waves around the castle, diverting the damaging flood of seawater.
He’s rolled up his sleeves and I stare at the muscles of his forearms as he widens the channel with his bare hands.
Before, I assumed it was just the weed, skewing my perspective, but is Caleb actually hot?
No. I can’t think like this; Caleb is my annoying neighbour, not my love interest. If anyone’s my love interest, it’s going to be Joshua.
But maybe Caleb and I don’t have to be annoying neighbours to each other. After all, even Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley became friends.
I try not to think about how in the later books they got married and had kids.
Anne and Gilbert must have had sex. A bunch of times, given all the children. Probably really good sex.
This is a weird thought that disturbs me more than it should. Obviously, I have no interest in Caleb in that sense. Even if I did find him attractive, it would be way too awkward, given the proximity of our living quarters.
And what was that thing Henny used to talk about? The propinquity effect. That if you see someone repeatedly, you’re more likely to develop feelings of some sort for them. It’s practically an inevitability. It doesn’t have to mean anything profound, or hint at a deep connection; it’s just basic human psychology.
When he’s finished helping the group of men, Caleb bounds back to me looking flushed and happy.
‘So why were you so upset earlier?’ he asks, out of nowhere. ‘Did you hear from your ex?’
‘No. It’s me. I’m the problem.’
‘Why?’
‘I really want to check his YouTube channel. I haven’t touched it for a week and I’m starting to feel a bit stir-crazy.’
‘Why do you want to look at that – won’t it just make you feel worse, if you have to see him and hear him?’
He looks back at the sandcastle, where the waves are already surging in and overcoming the defences.
‘It’s a compulsion. I need to know.’
I watch as one of the men places a flag on the sandcastle. It’s not a black and white Cornish flag; it is 100 per cent red.
‘I really don’t think you should,’ he says, which is when I make up my mind: I’ll look as soon as I get back to the house.